Bormwhin Caltarra
DM Handle Description Eye Color: Dark brown (almost black) Hair Color: Dark Brown Height: 5'10 Weight: 155 lbs Age: 17 Place of Origin: Andor Stats Rank: Trainee Warder Weapon Score: 0 Paths and Disciplines: Not Chosen Yet Primary Weapon: Hand-and-a-half long sword Secondary Weapon: Throwing knives Tertiary Weapon: Andoran Long Bow History Special Features: A scar from his right ear down his jaw (from a previous adolescent escapade) Characteristics: He usually believes that he knows more than anyone else. He maintains this arrogance until his instructor/mentor wins his respect, after that he will defer to that person indefinitely and will seek to gain that person’s respect. Character History: “Burn it, Bor!” Halmar Caltarra bellowed. Bor smirked. Unfortunately for him, his night’s fun had tangled into a minor disaster. He and few of his fellows (all young lordings) decided to try and ride his father’s wildest colt; the one Halmar was training for a warhorse. It seemed like such a rational idea after the small amount of wine he had imbibed. The four of them put a saddle and bridle on the colt and tied it to the stable gate. It became frenzied with the tack, and when Bor flung himself into the saddle the horse went berserk. The gate splintered releasing the maddened animal. Bor managed to cling to it, but the damage it did while he was trying to do so negated his feat. It smashed several troughs the majority of the fence surrounding the stable and even managed to wreck three stalls. It finally settled down after completely exhausting itself. The commotion had awaken Lord Halmar though and now that Bor had put the horse away and spent nearly eight hours in his chamber he stood facing his father’s wrath and judgment, still smirking. Bor’s father was a quiet scholarly man who had quiet tastes and a mild disposition. He was considered somewhat of an oddity in house Pelivar because of his lack of interest in warfare. Because of this Bor always struggled to keep a straight face when his father cursed, it just did not seem to fit coming from him. Oh, his mother could curse a stable-hand pale, but his father could never quite make the words seem intimidating. Regardless of the absurdity of his father cursing, Halmar was in a towering rage. Halmar pressed his lips together until they turned white, then hissed through his teeth, “Not only will you personally repair the damage you did to my stable, you will also spend two hours every day studying the histories under me, two hours working the sword under Master Kallim, and an hour in forge with Master Royan. If you still find time to get drunk and cause trouble I will review this issue and see that your punishment leaves you properly exhausted. Do I make myself clear?” “Perfectly!” Bor growled. His smirk had faded a little with each new announcement, until; by the end of the statement his greatly resembled his father’s. Bor spent the next two months working from sun-up to sun-down. He hated working and he hated being told what to do even more, but he respected his father would go to any length to regain his respect in return. He steadily progressed in his history lessons and began to rival Kallim with his blade. The repairs on the stable and the smithing accomplished exactly what Halmar had intended and Bor always finished the day tired and ready for sleep. About two weeks after Bor finished the stable Halmar called him to his study. Lord Halmar’s voice was low and rich and carried a weight that caught one’s attention. “You’ve done well in redeeming yourself son,” He chuckled low in his throat, “in fact, far better than I’d hoped. Kallim says you have knack for the blade and that you should seek a Blademaster to continue your training. Royan says that you’ve barely given him trouble and done your work well.” Halmar put his elbows on the desk a laced his fingers. “So I think you have fulfilled your punishment…for the time being.” Bor blinked, slightly stunned. He had come expecting the promised addition to his penance for the game of cards he had played the evening before. Free. He heaved a sigh of relief. He thanked his father as he bowed smoothly and spun heading for the stables, excitement welling up in him. Free! It would be good to be able act his station again. “Bor?” His father’s voice arrested exit from the study. He turned suspiciously, “Yes my Lord?” “Bor I’m afraid you won’t have time for the tavern tonight. You will need to be pack to start early in the morning with Kallim. He will tell you what you will need for the journey.” “Blood and bloody ashes!!” Bor cursed under his breath. “But…” he took a deep breath trying to get past the shock, “My Lord,” he began slightly more composed. “Where are you sending us?” “Tar Valon.” Category:Warder Bios Category:Biographies Category:WS 0 Category:Trainee